


strawberry lemonade and melon soda

by spacegirlkj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, now THATS a tag you dont see in my works that often huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: Hinata looks and looks and stares whenever Matsukawa’s eyes are turned away, wonders what it’d feel like to run his hands over the shaved portion of the back of his neck or through the thick ebony curls of his hair.





	strawberry lemonade and melon soda

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” god DAMN if that isnt matsuhina

They’re sitting on Matsukawa’s back porch at twilight, still facing east after the sun has long set. It was originally so the blinding reds and oranges didn’t strain their eyes as they tossed Matsukawa’s half inflated volleyball across the wayward branch of an old tree, but now the sky is all blues and purples and neither have moved their bare feet from the grass.

This, this whole _in love with a boy who hums before he speaks,_ this accidental crushing feeling of spiralling without control all started with a practice match and a question, because Hinata has long since learned to face the things that infuriate him head on, and Matsukawa’s blocking techniques fall square on that line. As does the teasing lilt in his voice the first time they met up like this, and the offer to help him with his english, and the texts at three am of songs composed of every feeling Hinata can’t express or fucking _whale noises._ Matsukawa stopped becoming infuriating around the same time Hinata realized he was skipping whatever one two three’s existed in friendships in favour of tripping over his own feet whenever the other boy smiled. 

Hinata could write an entire essay on Matsukawa’s smiles. There are smirks that make Hinata’s heart skip a beat and smug grins of teasing or satisfaction that show off teeth straight after, he learns, two and a half years of braces. He had just gotten them take off the year before, but Hinata doesn’t think that's much of a problem when Matsukawa’s eyes stay half lidded and his tongue brushes past those teeth and across pink lips. Genuine ones are rare and pulled through his cheeks like taffy, slow and lazy and closed lipped. They come after a particularly soft moment in time where everything gets really loud or really quiet, when he watches the world while Hinata watches him in technicolour curiosity.

But the best kind of smiles are the ones that come alongside laughs, where the indifference of his eyes is washed away by bunched up cheeks and eyes squeezed tight. His head leans back and those pink lips that shape his mouth spreads wide, revealing teeth and tongue and throat as a laugh reverberates out, warm and low and the same shades as the sky in front of them now.

Hinata has grown observant over the past few months. He’s had to, with all that’s happened to him, he’s _had_ to, in order to keep up. But right now, when they’re together, the keen eye he’s crafted is used to admire how beads of sweat cling to Matsukawa’s hair in the heat of the moment. He looks at every tendon pulling taunt in his neck, the sides of his torso, muscular and strong, exposed by the cut of his tank. Hinata looks and looks and _stares_ whenever Matsukawa’s eyes are turned away, wonders what it’d feel like to run his hands over the shaved portion of the back of his neck or through the thick ebony curls of his hair. 

This, of course, is amplified by the fact that it’s just the two of them in Matsukawa’s backyard, just their shouts and laughs echoing through the near empty neighbourhood, the after sunset sky a perfect backdrop to these tense glares. There’s a part of Hinata, a stupidly big and annoying part of him, that understands he isn’t subtle. But Matsukawa calls bullshit and speaks his mind and is blunt with precision sharp like a blade. Hinata considers his options as they sip strawberry lemonade and melon soda through bendy straws kept in a mason jar in Matsukawa’s kitchen. In the end he decides it worth it, because he’s dying to see what purple looks like against the olive undertones of his skin. 

So Hinata looks over as strawberry lemonade hits his tongue to see the clean lines of Matsukawa’s jaw only to be met with the deep blues of his eyes boring right into his. Matsukawa’s lips are shiny with moisture and his head is cocked to the side, smile— smirk— beginning to play on his lips because he just caught Hinata in the act of adoring. Suddenly, the centimetre between their thighs feels like nothing more than a trap for body heat and then the straw is slipping from Hinata’s lips and Matsukawa is kissing him, open mouthed and sweet. One hand cups his chin and the other rests overtop of his, blanketing the back of his hand as Hinata’s eyes flutter close. Matsukawa kisses wet and he kisses slow, kisses once then again and again and again until Hinata is dizzy. When Hinata finally pulls away, his hand is an anchor still on his cheek, thumb circling on his jaw as he licks the fading taste of Matsukawa’s spit and melon soda off his lip, syllables tumbling out in senseless order without meaning.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Matsukawa murmurs. It sends a shiver down Hinata’s spine, and as Matsukawa blinks, he can feel eyelashes brushing his cheeks. Hinata tries to look down, but that hand pushing tilts his chin back up so their eyes _have_ to meet. “You don’t have to be shy. I look too.” He pauses, looks across his face before pressing their foreheads together. “You’re beautiful. I’ve been waiting for a chance to tell you.”

Hinata cheeks instantly heat up, and he’s sure they’re pink enough that Matsukawa will tell he’s blushing even in the dusk light. He’s right, because seconds later, Matsukawa kisses the apple of his cheek and nearly causes Hinata premature cardiac arrest out of sheer shock more than anything.

“I’m kind of really in love with you,” Hinata blurts out more than anything, but Matsukawa is still looking at him like he holds the world in both his hands so it’s all right, he’s fine.

Matsukawa waits half a second before angling his head and kissing Hinata again, but this time there’s _tongue_ and the faint aftertaste of carbonation hits Hinata before the fact that Matsukawa has moved to cradle him more than anything else. Hinata brushes his tongue against Matsukawa’s and reaches up to grab his shirt, fingertips slipping to touch the exposed skin of his ribs, to feel the heat and the muscle there. He freezes, but only until Matsukawa sucks on his tongue, because by then he’s released from fear’s hold that everything will turn out to the worse of his plans. It can’t, not when Matsukawa squeezes his hip like an afterthought, not when he licks into Hinata’s mouth and bites down and drags out his bottom lip just to gauge his reaction.

Hinata’s reaction, if you were wondering, is to _finally_ reach up and touch Matsukawa’s hair. He runs the pads of his fingers over the buzzed back of his head, smiling into Matsukawa’s mouth at the sensation before tangling fingertips in his curls, making Matsukawa hum low and _perfect_ against his lips. Matsukawa’s hair is so much softer than Hinata could ever imagine, and now that the initial surprise and sensation of actually kissing him has become to be familiar, he can take in the scent of his cologne. It’s everything he could’ve, and has, dreamed of, swirls through his nose until he becomes breathless and searching for the word on his lips— Matsukawa, Matsukawa, Matsukawa.

And then they’re apart, breathing each other in, and Matsukawa’s doing his genuine smile now, and Hinata is watching him as his heart seizes. “I love you, Shou,” Matsukawa tells him, and Hinata squeaks, then jerks away and covers his mouth because it’s just his given name but it’s also _his given name_ and he’s always dreamt about hearing it fall from Matsukawa’s mouth. And then Matsukawa laughs, more than a snicker, deep enough he leans over to grab his ribs, enough that his eyes squeeze shut and _oh_ , Hinata hopes he knows he’s beautiful too. 

So he says it, swallows his nerves and cough up bravery.

“Y-you’re beautiful too,” Hinata stammers. Heat swells under his skin and travels up and up his neck. “Issei.”

That makes Matsukawa stop laughing, but not at once. It leaves him in radiation waves that leave a tingling sensation in Hinata’s heart, because he’s sitting up again and leaning past his mouth to rest his lips by his ear and whisper “ _Shouyou_ ,” as if it’s all the answer he needs. Hinata blushes deeper but doesn’t move anymore than needed, just turns his head to meet Matsukawa halfway. Their lips lock and Hinata lets a sigh die in his throat. Twilight has faded into night now, but neither notice the cold air raising hair on bare skin. Hinata is too consumed in Matsukawa, and he knows Matsukawa will never look away.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr/twitter @spacegaykj. kudos and comments gain you 3914 points.


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